


Miscommunication

by phodyl



Series: Valentine's Fic Week 2020 [2]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Dates, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Oblivious, Polyamorous Character, yet another example of me writing awkward dumbasses lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22702042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phodyl/pseuds/phodyl
Summary: “Hi, um, is this--sorry, I’ve never been to Lion’s Arch before. I’m looking for a blacksmith?”Erlend sighed from his place behind the counter. Normally at this time of day, he’d have someone else watch for customers while he tended the forge, but right now he was working on a design for a rather expensive axe someone had commissioned, so he had the distinct pleasure of fielding stupid questions from random LA tourists.“Well, I’m a blacksmith, and this is my shop, but--” he said, turning to face the woman.What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.She was large, tall even for a norn, with silver hair down to the small of her back, held neatly in a braid. She didn’t fit in with the tourist crowd in the slightest--this was a woman on a mission, that he could be certain of. She was clad in heavy, bulky combat armor, with a shabby iron sword strapped to either hip, and her eyes held...something. Something he couldn’t put words to. A power.“But…?” the woman echoed as he stared at her, wide-eyed.“But...it’s very dependent on what kind of services you’re looking for,” Erlend said, shaking his head to bring him back to reality. “My prices are a bit steep for the average adventurer.”
Relationships: OC/OC
Series: Valentine's Fic Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629871
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Miscommunication

**Author's Note:**

> This is for day 2 of [tyrias-library's](https://tyrias-library.tumblr.com) Valentine's fic week! The prompt for the day is Memorable Dates, so this is some nice fluff featuring awkward baby Toril (she wasn't always super confident, as it turns out) and Erlend, who she eventually marries, but this is really like the genesis of their relationship. It's awkward and full of misunderstandings and confusion and Erlend being a himbo. Enjoy!

“Hi, um, is this--sorry, I’ve never been to Lion’s Arch before. I’m looking for a blacksmith?”

Erlend sighed from his place behind the counter. Normally at this time of day, he’d have someone else watch for customers while he tended the forge, but right now he was working on a design for a rather expensive axe someone had commissioned, so he had the distinct pleasure of fielding stupid questions from random LA tourists.

“Well, I’m a blacksmith, and this is my shop, but--” he said, turning to face the woman.

What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.

She was large, tall even for a norn, with silver hair down to the small of her back, held neatly in a braid. She didn’t fit in with the tourist crowd in the slightest--this was a woman on a mission, that he could be certain of. She was clad in heavy, bulky combat armor, with a shabby iron sword strapped to either hip, and her eyes held...something. Something he couldn’t put words to. A power.

“But…?” the woman echoed as he stared at her, wide-eyed.

“But...it’s very dependent on what kind of services you’re looking for,” Erlend said, shaking his head to bring him back to reality. “My prices are a bit steep for the average adventurer.”

“Ah, well, it’s a good thing I’m not the average adventurer then,” she said with a smile that he could’ve sworn stopped his heart for a second or two. “You wouldn’t happen to be Erlend Holgerson?” 

“That’d be me,” he said. “I take it you’re here to commission something, then, if you’re seeking me out specifically.”

“That I am,” the woman said, reaching out a hand for him to shake. “Name’s Toril. Tainesdottir. I saw you eyeing my swords, and that is exactly why I’m here. They’re terrible. I need better ones.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Toril Tainesdottir. I’d be happy to help you out, but I have to warn you, it’ll be a few months before I can get to work on any new commissions.”

“I’m willing to wait,” Toril said. “I want the best, and everyone says that’s you. These swords are going to see quite a bit of use; I want something that’ll last.”

“Is that so?” Erlend inquired.

“Yeah, um, I was just recruited to the Vigil. About two weeks ago now, I guess, and my first official mission is soon, so I want to go in ready for whatever they throw at me. Make a good impression, climb the ladder, you know?”

“Sure, but like I said, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to get them done with such a quick turnaround.”

“I understand,” she said. “That’s not what--I mean, joining was what made me want to get--but I--you know what? I am making a terrible first impression here. You must think I’m an idiot.”

“Not at all. I try not to make a point of judging customers in general,” he said, “but honestly, you’re a refreshing change from my usual crowd.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean, I became a weaponsmith because I wanted to make _weapons_ , but once you have enough of a reputation, you start getting inundated with orders from rich snobs who want showpieces. It’s a pleasure to have a proper fighter seek me out.” 

“Well, I promise your work will see plenty of fights in my hands. I’m going to be a legend, you know,” Toril said.

Erlend laughed heartily.

“I believe it,” he said. “Well, I can go ahead and get started on a design for you, even if it’ll be awhile before I can really get working on it. You have some time to talk shop?”

“Sure, but could we do it over lunch? I’m starved.”

***

“So you’re a revenant?” Erlend said, taking a sip of ale. “I’ve never met a revenant before. I’ve heard of them, o’course, but I sort of thought they were just a tall tale.”

“Well, we’re certainly not a common bunch,” Toril laughed, “but we exist. In my case, I ended up in the Mists because of Bear, and she was the one who set me on the path. I’ve heard all sorts of stories, though, of how other people got started on theirs.”

“What, do you have meet ups or something?” he joked.

“Not exactly, but since there’s so few of us, sometimes we seek each other out to train and swap tips. Personally, I’m a bit more of a ‘figure it out as I go’ type, but I’ve helped out a couple kids who were just getting used to it after an accidental foray into the Mists. It’s hard to cope with. Changes you.”

“Well, I’d love to hear more about it,” Erlend said, “but let’s focus on the swords for now, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, of course, absolutely. Maybe I can tell you about it another time,” she said, and Erlend felt his heart flutter. “What do you need to know to get started?”

“Well, for one thing, what’s your budget look like?”

Toril chuckled and said, “How about you tell me what you think it’ll cost when all is said and done, and I’ll deal with it? Your work is the best. I’ve been saving for months to commission you.”

“Ah, that’s--you’re too kind.”

“No, seriously,” Toril said. “I’ve been planning this for a while.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Mhm. Everything really kicked off for me about a year ago, when I won the Great Hunt by slaying Issormir. After that, I was lucky enough to have Eir Stegalkin take me under her wing, and she recommended that once I was able, I come to you. Been saving every bit of spare change since then.”

“You’re Eir Stegalkin’s new protege?” Erlend asked, eyes wide. “I’ve heard so many great stories, but I never--wow, it’s--it’s an honor.”

“No, no, don’t do that, please. You’re the first norn I’ve met in ages to not lose it when they heard my name.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “I can understand that. I’ll let it go, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You tell me your version of some of those stories yourself.”

She smiled, radiant and genuine and world-spinning. 

“I’d like that.” 

***

A week later and Erlend was meeting her at a practice field on the edge of the city. Turns out, it’s a bit hard to design weapons for a combat style you’ve never seen, and Toril agreed to give a demonstration. He was nervous, honestly, his stomach full of butterflies. Something about her was just...captivating.

“So the basics of how revenants fight are pretty out there,” Toril explained. “We, um, channel energy from the Mists, and it allows us to use a wide variety of skills.”

“So you use Mist energy to improve your combat abilities?”

“It’s...more than that. I channel specific people. Or beings, I guess. Their spirits. And they allow me to use their knowledge and strengths and skills to improve my own abilities in combat. Or, well, they don’t all _allow_ it, per se.” She chuckled. “Sometimes it’s more that I just strongarm them into it.”

“I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I understand,” Erlend admitted. “Can you just show me?”

“I can certainly try,” she said. “Be prepared, though. I’ve had some people tell me it’s a little...disturbing.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just shrugged and gestured toward a practice dummy. She smiled at him, winked (he thought he might faint at that), and then closed her eyes and drew her swords. When she opened them, they were glowing with a bright blue fire. It was like nothing he’d ever seen.

The same blue flames licked her wrists as she shadowstepped to a target and sliced it in half with a quick motion, sending sand spilling to the ground. She turned, raised a hand as if calling something down, and a moment later, a brick road--or magic shaped to look like one, anyway--was materializing before her, crushing three of the dummies as it went. She turned to another--the last one, now--and shadowstepped to it, before darting in and out of the Mists, delivering quick strikes faster than he could keep up with. When she stopped moving, she crossed her swords and conjured a chain, sending it flying to wrap around the target. Raising her hand again, she called down--he wasn’t sure he could describe it. It looked like the spirit of a dragon, but that was--that was ridiculous. Wasn’t it? 

It must have been real enough, because when it beat its wings it sent the target flying across the field. After a moment, Toril turned to him, panting, and sheathed her swords with a grin. He watched with fascination as the fire slowly disappeared from her eyes. 

“Yeah, I--sorry. I know it’s a little much,” she said, looking down as she approached him.

“No--I--that--” Erlend stammered. He took a deep breath, collected himself, tried again. “That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. You’re incredible.”

“Oh, um, thanks. I, uh...I’m not used to compliments. Most people seem really creeped out by revenants.”

“People tend to fear things they don’t understand,” Erlend says. “Me, I’ve always liked a good mystery.”

Toril raised a single eyebrow, and for one tense moment, the smith thought he may have overstepped, until her rough facade gave way to a tender smile.

***

They met up a few more times, here and there. It was always at her invitation and under the guise of talking about the swords, about Toril’s combat skills, about what it’s like to be an oddity, what it’s like to forge a legend--anything that could be dismissed as strictly business. Erlend thought that was all it was, really. Business. She was fascinating and wild and dangerous and beautiful, and he was a smith born and raised in Lion’s Arch and distanced from his own culture for so long that every time it came up with Shiverpeaks natives he learned something new. 

This time, she’d asked him to dinner, and how on Tyria could he say no to that? 

Toril told him about her first mission with the Vigil--a resounding success, of course--and about her mentor, a stern norn Warmaster who had made a point of keeping her ego in check. He told her about some rich bastard who’d stumbled drunk into his shop and demanded Erlend make him a fine greatsword within the fortnight. 

“So hey,” Toril said at one point, a little serious to fit within the laughter they’d been sharing, “I wanted to, uh, talk to you about something.”

“About what?” Erlend asked, just a touch nervous.

“Oh it’s--it’s nothing bad!” Toril assured. “I don’t mean to make you worried, it’s just that--well, with where this seems to be going, and seeing as I really, really like you, I think you should probably know that, um, well...I have a girlfriend?” 

“You have a girlfriend?” Erlend parroted.

“Yeah, well, see, we have this, uh, arrangement, I guess you could say. We both have other partners. Or, well, can. She’s the only one I have currently. Unless, y’know…”

“I, um--forgive me, please,” Erlend said, “but is there--is there a particular reason you feel I should know this?”

“Oh, um, were you not…? Like, I thought you were maybe interested in me, and I’m more than a little interested in you, and...you know…”

“Are you--has this--have we been going on _dates?_ ” Erlend babbled.

“Haven’t we been?” Toril answered, now just as confused.

“I thought this was--I didn’t think you were--I didn’t want to presume anything, but well, you’re so--and just--”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Toril said, holding up a hand in an attempt to calm him, “it’s alright, Erlend. Stuff like this happens. Miscommunication and all. I’ve been asking to see you because I like you. I think you’re sweet, and you understand me, and you have this grounding sort of energy about you that I can’t seem to stay away from. I thought I had communicated that, but I suppose not well enough.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Well, y’see, you walked into my shop and I--” Erlend tried, took a deep breath, started again. “When I saw you, I think my heart stopped for a minute. You’re absolutely, stunningly gorgeous, and funny, and a _badass_ , and just absolutely otherworldly, but I don’t go after customers. It’s rude. I’m not the type for that, bothering a lady just trying to buy a weapon. Too many other assholes out there who like to do that sort of thing. If someone makes the first move, well, I’m not opposed, but...I enjoy spending time with you, but I just assumed someone like you wouldn’t really be interested in...well, me.”

“Why on Tyria would you assume that?” Toril asked.

“Your life is so...I don’t know. Interesting? I’m just me, and you’re, well, _you_.”

She reached a hand across the table, placing it over one of his that had been fidgeting nervously with the wood. 

“Didn’t you hear the part where I said I like _you?_ ” she asked with a gentle smile.

“It may have gotten a bit lost in there somewhere,” Erlend admitted. 

Toril chuckled and lifted his hand, holding it in both of hers. 

“Every bit of time I’ve spent with you, I’ve enjoyed,” she said. “And I’d like to spend more time with you, if you’d like to spend more time with me.” 

“I...yeah. I’d like that, too,” the smith said, nodding awkwardly. After a long pause, he added, “So what do we do now?”

“Well,” Toril said, smiling brightly, “how do you feel about ice cream?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this fic! <3
> 
> If you like my writing, kudos and comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [useless-bisaster](https://useless-bisaster.tumblr.com/) or on my gw2-specific blog [commander-passiflora](https://commander-passiflora.tumblr.com) where I post about updates and suchlike


End file.
